The events I am about to relate happened several years ago when I was first getting settled in on a piece of property that I had recently hacked out of the woods. Since I was tired of paying rent, I was staying on the property. I had electricity. And along with electricity, I had running water from a gravity-fed system originating from a nearby creek -- that is, a garden hose siphoning from a creek three hundred feet away to my small cabin, with the overflow going down a ditch.

Did I have a sewer system? No, I don't think so. But I did have a good collection of empty five-gallon buckets. These buckets are very useful items when one is pioneering or developing a piece of land and can be used for many different things.

At this point, the quick-witted among you have probably ventured the guess that I was going to use said buckets to defecate in.

Wrong!! Actually, I'm kidding, you're right. The first night I stayed I drank large amounts of cheap beer, ate a bunch of barbecued pork and corn on the cob, and went to bed. I awoke about four AM with my insides rumbling and gurgling and needing to badly expel the previous day's gastronomic delights. I was so busy drinking beer the night before that I had forgotten to plan ahead for any unforeseen event. I ended up making it as far as an empty five-gallon bucket with a plastic liner that I had been using for garbage. Luckily for me, there were a lot of paper towels in there to absorb my wet and putrid offerings. We will refer to this as bucket #1 from now on.

While I was sitting there, I realized that I needed some kind of turd control plan, and that a five-gallon bucket was a good place to start. So I went to the hardware store and bought a toilet seat for about ten bucks. *Now* I was in business.

That evening I again had a good barbecue dinner with corn on the side. I also snacked on some salted peanuts in the shell. I didn't have any beer, as I had plenty the night before. The next morning I awoke at a more decent hour. My throne was awaiting its first deposit and I myself was ready for a sit down. This wasn't a wet gusher -- this one had a firmer texture and a wholeness about it. When it finally exited stage left it hit the bottom of the bucket with a resounding plop. The stench was horrific -- I could have used it to strip chrome off of a bumper.

It was then that I realized why toilets have water. I immediately poured water over the turd, submerging it and lessening the terrible odor. To my horror, the turd menacingly rose from the bucket like a German U-boat on patrol in the south Atlantic. Instead of swastikas on the sides, it sported a corn conning tower and peanuts representing crew members. I hastily took the bucket outside and put a scrap of plywood over it. We will refer to this as bucket #2 from now on.

As I was used to a flusher, the idea of co-mingled turd bucket deposits was not readily embraced, so after a while I had somewhere in the neighborhood of fifteen five-gallon buckets, each with single-jobbie deposits -- and I had yet to devise a final solution to this problem. I could start recreating the garbage scene as in bucket #1 and then turn all my shit over to the garbage collector, but it was summertime, and it seemed like a shitty idea. My next plan was to dump all the buckets at an RV sewage disposal site. But it's a small town, and I didn't think the local babes would think I was a cool cat if they saw me dropping the kids off after work.

And then it dawned on me: there was nothing but woods behind me! All I had to do was find a hole to pour the buckets into, and then throw some lime on top.

Once I had found a proper site for my toxic waste, the bucket brigade began. Turds from many exotic dinners mingled in a crescendo of fetid gaseous indignation at being disturbed from their private residences. (Except for bucket #1, which had previously sped away on a garbage truck, never to be heard from again.) When I finally reached bucket #2, I was startled at the amazing sight that befell my eyes: a mouse had somehow got itself into the bucket and had commandeered the German U boat! It was still alive, albeit in a wet and bedraggled condition, apparently surviving on peanuts and corn from the conning tower.

After that much time in the water, the U-boat looked as though it had taken a hit from an Allied torpedo. It was in tough shape. The mouse, though, was a hardy sailor, having taken refuge on the wreckage of the boat's superstructure. I viewed him as a hero and repatriated him to a turd world country.